


what's your name (you know my name)

by neopunch



Category: NCT (Band), WAYV
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Strangers to Lovers, unintentionally a 5+1 fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-11-25 18:11:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20916386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neopunch/pseuds/neopunch
Summary: Think Rumpelstiltskin but without the stealing of babies and spinning gold from hay. Instead, it's one man's conquest to find out the true name of the boy who keeps popping up out of nowhere, donning a different name every single time.alternatively: the retelling of five separate occasions in which a confused Dejun Xiao bumps into the same boy with the glittery eyes, pretty smile, and a different name tag attached to his shirt each time.





	what's your name (you know my name)

**Author's Note:**

> yes the title is adopted from the 2013 kpop treasure that is 'what's your name?' by 4minute

**** **The First (Of Too Many)**

Dejun doesn’t want to admit it, but he feels lonely.

Not in a ‘#foreveralone </3’ way, but in a ‘Mark always spends his lunch break with Donghyuck and I don’t want to third wheel but it’s also really lonely eating ramen by yourself’ kind of way.

He thought he was okay with it, always turning down the blonde politely when he asked if he wanted to tag along and eat the beloved noodle dish ‘at the place down the road.’ 

What is this ‘place down the road’? 

Dejun doesn’t want to remember. 

He’s always going to say no to Mark, because the _ one _ time he did tag along, he witnessed Donghyuck sidling up next to his coworker in the booth and feeding him the soft-boiled egg from his bowl. It was _ devastating_.

He remembers the place down the road, because all that haunts him in his sleep is how mesmerised Mark was with the younger during the whole hour lunch break they had, and how he remained mesmerised all through their night shift because Donghyuck had texted him:

_ hey ugly make sure u stay hydrated! n get home safe i miss u already _

_ p.s new ep of buzzfeed unsolved out 2day so u BETTER get home safe _

The love that colours their irises only shines brighter in each other’s presence. Even when they’re choking each other out because the tanned boy is always out for blood, boyfriend or not, and Mark just wants to make him happy.

God, Dejun _ does _feel lonely in the ‘#foreveralone </3’ kind of way.

So he stands in front of the Japanese place in the mall food court, contemplating whether to choose miso or shoyu ramen, one of his more difficult decisions in life. 

“I personally recommend shoyu but miso never disappoints,”

His focus snaps towards the cashier, who sports a brown newsboy cap and a gleaming customer service smile that Dejun knows a little too well. He’s also got a boyish smile and glittery eyes, but that’s neither here nor there. 

“How did-”

“You were thinking out loud, sir.”

_Sir_. That’s a new one. Surely this boy can’t be _that _much younger than him? Dejun usually gets ‘bro, man, mate, dude, bruv, homie’ from boys this age, but being friends with pleasant-looking people such as Mark, Donghyuck, if one considers friendship by association as valid, and Kunhang, has made him a little insecure about his appearance in recent years. Dejun’s well aware of his blossoming eye bags but his skin is still supple! Baby-butt smooth he would argue and very wrinkle-free! So really, there is no need for ‘sir’, and maybe he’s being a bit over dramatic but ‘sir’ is really reserved for middle-aged men who wore ill-fitting suits and hated their jobs. Not Dejun, not by a long chance—

“It’s just customer policy, I mean no harm by that _sir —“_ The young boy speaks with complete insincerity, and Dejun ignores the fact that he had vocalised his whole spiel out loud again, because he just _ won’t have it _ from this young whippersnapper.

“_Dejun_, it’s Dejun,” 

He squints to read the worker’s label, recognising the familiar romanisation.

“_Sicheng? _ ” He enunciates, hoping he got the right intonations yet all _ Sicheng _ does is keep his tight-lipped customer service smile on, and Dejun knows the taste of rejection, but man, this one stings. He thought the Chinese always stuck it together as expats in foreign countries! Now he’s more upset over the fact that _ Sicheng _had just called him old. 

“So, a large Tokyo ramen? That’ll be $11.90 _Dejun_,” Sicheng has the audacity to cock his head from behind the cash register, tap his fingers impatiently against the counter, all the while still adorning that damned Smile and Dejun is appalled. This customer service calls for a zero out of five stars on Yelp! That is, if he could ever bring himself to write another review, that is. Don’t ask why, we don’t talk about the Book Incident.

(“Dude I can’t believe you gave Brilliant Books a two out of five star review, because of one employee not having the, and I _ quote _ “...the initiative that should come with every employee no matter the industry and role, to pick up an item for a customer, especially when they are obviously struggling to reach it - either they are _ extraordinarily incompetent _or visually impaired, both are unacceptable and I will not be purchasing from your store ever again!” Mark hiccups at least five times in between reciting Dejun’s Google Review, choking on his own saliva at one point. Dejun is more than mortified to hear it verbalised, especially by Mark Lee, who reads at the speed of a second grader, despite being able to spit verses at a rate that could rival Eminem in his Soundcloud tracks. It’s one of his greatest regrets, that really just stemmed from a bad day at uni, but flowed over into being reminded of his shorter-than-average stature at the bookstore when he was trying to reach for the third Black Edition of Death Note, and the employee sorting out the Young Adult section a few metres away not noticing his silent suffering, resulting in Dejun’s silent storm out of the store, and consequent lengthy, aggressive review. 

“Du-de, you are so _ funny _ I have to show this to Donghyuck, he’s going to laugh his _ass —_”

Dejun slams his head against the glass counter, hard enough for the display records to shake ever so slightly underneath and Mark takes that as a sign to shut up.)

If Dejun wasn’t deadly afraid of physical confrontation, he would give this _ boy _a stern talking to.

But alas, he is, so he hands, or slides, over eleven dollars and ninety-cents. Or something along those lines, because watching Sicheng’s jaw drop as he empties out a plastic zip lock bag filled to the brim with silver and gold coins, is very entertaining to watch. Because if Dejun is _ anything_, it’s a petty bitch. 

And when he is given his wireless waiter, he only smiles at Sicheng, teeth and all as he flips the circular disk over and over in his hand and walks off to an empty table in the court. He folds the plastic zip-lock bag into a tiny square, tucking it into his wallet and watches, terribly amused at the sight of Sicheng counting up the five cents and painstakingly missing a few that landed underneath the cashier. Dejun couldn’t care less about giving more than eleven ninety despite his frugal nature, because challenging anyone’s ability to do financial maths is a pastime he greatly enjoys. Call him sadistic, but it gives him even greater joy watching someone (especially someone who has truly gone out of their way to annoy him) crack under pressure over the sheer amount of ten cent coins strewn over the counter as an elderly woman watches him with great disdain. Her varnished fingers tap impatiently against her floral sleeves and Sicheng apologises profusely as he gathers the coins, dumps them into the till and asks her for her order. All the while Dejun is laughing, tittering even, to himself until the disk begins vibrating madly against the marbled table and he jumps up, striding back over to the Japanese place.

Another worker gives him his bowl on a tray and he smiles politely, says thanks, and walks with an exaggerated pep in his step as a certain pair of eyes following him up until he places his tray down, and sits, directly facing the pair of eyes.

If Sicheng thinks he could get past Dejun Xiao, in all his bitching glory, he couldn’t be _ more _ wrong.

Sicheng: 0 and Dejun: with the glorifying win. 

**The Second (Feeling: Confused)**

The university library is a trek across campus for him, but _ God _does it beat whatever travesty his local one has become. Rampant with high school kids and their large bubble teas, greasy take out food, obnoxious laughter— truly the last place he would ever think about sitting in, let alone studying in for his finals.

So he has settled for the university library, locked and loaded with his one litre bottle of water, Keepcup of steaming hot green tea, Muji pens at the ready, pomodoro timer just waiting to be set, Forest open on his phone, all the social media blockers in motion.

But lo and behold, in his peripheral, he sees a library volunteer waltz out from the World History aisle in a pristine white polo and chinos, all with a very familiar smile plastered across his face.

Good Lord, it’s Sicheng.

But when Dejun squints from behind his battered copy of Anna Karenina, the name tag sitting on top of his pocket does not read Sicheng. Instead it’s _ another _Chinese name.

Xuxi?!

Sicheng— Xuxi? For some god-awful reason, is bending the spine of the Great Gatsby and has the audacity to _ dogear _the page and Dejun chokes up.

His not exactly silent choking garners attention from his fellow peers as well as _ Xuxi_. 

His timer ticks away, blue Muji pen bleeding out onto his lined paper pad, and Dejun stares blankly at his empty Google Doc. Maybe this is the time to d word.

Xuxi makes no attempt at masking his amusement, inducing a sharp ‘shh!’ from the librarian, but he saunters over to Dejun, long strides getting him to the table faster than Dejun is ready for, and he leans over.

“Hi Dejun,”

“_Who _the hell are you?! 

Xuxi has the gall to laugh obnoxiously again.

“That’s for me to know, and for you to find out,” he ambles his way back to the Fiction section and Dejun slams his forehead on his lined paper pad.

Boy with the Many Names only giggles again, head of brown popping out from behind a book end, and Dejun would really be asking for it if he verbalised how cute it was.

“Hey man, are you okay?”

Yeri Kim from Exercise Physiology asks him quietly and he only waves her off, forehead still very much sealed to his lined paper pad.

“Peachy.”

When he decides to unglue himself and sit up, he sees a post-it note bordered by tiny shiba drawings stuck on his hydroflask.

_ you actually gave me 15 bucks that day would u like me to venmo u Dejun Xiao? :P _

_ -sicheng/xuxi xD _

He knows his full name and uses xD possibly unironically.

Dejun doesn’t have even have half a clue on what his first name even starts with. Even thinking about studying is futile now, and Yeri Kim has opted to move three seats down from his.

The day could truly not get any worse.

(“Hey uh ‘Jun? Do you mind staying at Mark’s tonight?”

“... Kunhang,”

“Yes Dejun? My sweet, _ dai gor _,”

“Are you sexiling me? Your best friend for your hunky boyfriend Yukhei, is that it?”

“...”

“You’re the worst,”

“I love you man, I swear I do, it’s just, we wanna try out—”)

**The Third (Hump Day)**

It’s 7PM on a Wednesday and Dejun is so close to calling it quits and dropping out of school.

Creepy professors, blatantly racist tutors, tonnes of assignments on top of essays and readings— Dejun just wants to catch a break but none are in sight. 

It doesn’t help that Kunhang’s been living in the library for the past week, courtesy of his boyfriend working there, providing him with ample snacks and words of affirmation, and that Dejun has been alone at the apartment. Though Dejun’s a big boy and knows how to fend for himself, it does get lonely without his goofy idiot of a best friend with him. Without Kunhang, who still needs the door open slightly ajar at night, Dejun doesn’t have anyone to talk to about that new tacky TVB drama with the handsome Hong Kong actor they both had a crush on in middle school, no one to play Smash with, no one to share a whole tub of fruit jellies with— either Dejun needs more friends or a Boyfriend. The former sounds more achievable.

Taking a quick glance at the empty cupboard and just as bare fridge, Dejun grabs his wallet, deciding to take a trip down to the 24/7 Asian grocery five minutes away from their apartment block. He pulls on a faded uni hoodie and shuffles into his slides but as he steps out, his neighbours, the sweet old Chinese couple opposite him and Kunhang, have just gotten out of the elevator and their eyes light up when they see him.

He greets them, asking how their grandkids are and how their son’s job is going, the standard small talk he usually makes as he helps them with their groceries. After having a few (but very _ long _) chats in the hallway, him and Kunhang learnt that they moved from the mainland when their son received a job offer in his chosen field, some startup tech company as it usually is in these parts. He also knows that they’ve also got a granddaughter and grandson, who they look after three times a week, and that they used to own an Eastern medicine store in Chinatown back in the day before they decided to sell the land and spend their superannuation on holidays and lunches with friends at Yum Cha. His conversations with them, whether in the lift going up to their floor or in the hallway when they catch him out on the way to university in the morning, has him retaining more Mandarin than he realises, as a lot gets said in this short moments because they speak incredibly fast so Dejun keeps his ears open more than his eyes most of the time.

“_Have you met Yongqin yet? The new boy at the grocery? _”

Grandpa asks and Dejun remembers Kunhang mentioning something about a friend working at the store, but nothing much more than that.

“_No I haven’t, but I’m going there now._” He plops their eggs and bunches of _ choy sum _on the kitchen island, and Grandma only ruffles his hair affectionately. 

“_He’s quite cute, very talkative but very cute!_” Dejun, stunned by her suggestive eyebrows, does not know what to do with this information.

“_Lao po, leave the poor boy alone!_ Anyway, he seems around your age, I’m sure you’ve met him before, but yes he’s very sweet and gave us a discount!_”_

Now Dejun understands their sudden adoration.

“_Well, I’ll see for myself,_” Dejun says bashfully, still undergoing shock that Grandma really tried to set him up, her adopted son with the ‘cute’ boy at the grocery store.

They send him off with a warm hug and a promise to come by with stir fry for him and Kunhang, their other adopted son (who is out more often than Dejun and thus is their less favourite, but he won’t spill, Kunhang is a sensitive boy). 

Dejun makes the trip to the grocery store in trepidation, unsure of what this journey will entail emotionally. Maybe Grandma’s out of wack and just trying to mess with him, an unfortunate side effect of being queer and having your relatives accept you but also make untasteful jokes about your sexuality. Or, she genuinely thinks Grocery Boy is attractive and would be a good fit for Dejun, despite their own interaction being him slashing a whole ten percent off their groceries. Either one doesn’t sound awfully attractive.

The neon sign is comforting, and he picks up his pace, entering through the automatic doors and doesn’t initially register who the cashier actually is.

Distracted by the Jackson Wang advertisement, he almost misses the mop of brown hair and sharp smile. Almost.

“Dejun!”

At the sound of that voice, and the call of his name, Dejun almost breaks his neck trying to stop himself from turning around. 

He _ knows _all too well who the owner of that squeaky voice is. 

It’s the identity thief, who mocks his sensitivity about his age, bends book spines, and Goddamn it, he IS cute, which makes it ten times worse.

Dejun is stupid but not blind, and he’s known for a little bit that this ambiguous male is cuter than the average male, and the fact that Grandma was actually right further consolidates this. 

“...So you’re Yong Qin now? Is that it? You just happen to take on every Chinese male’s identity in my general vicinity?” Dejun is angry, frustrated, and confused. So, _ so _confused. The sight of the name hanging off the boy’s lapel makes him even more irate.

Why? Is he a runaway criminal? Hiding in plain sight? Utilising the ‘all Asians look the same’ stereotype for an evil ulterior motive? 

_ Yongqin _only laughs again, that same cackle mixed with a twinkle and a wide smile, filled with pretty teeth. 

“Man, you’re so funny,” 

Dejun marches up to the cash register and slams his fist on the counter.

“I don’t even understand how I keep seeing you?! Should I know who you are or am I in a very prolonged hallucination?”

His voice starts off aggravated, then slowly morphs into genuine confusion and desperation.

Yongqin smiles, and only sets his elbows on the counter on either side of Dejun’s fists.

“Maybe it’s fate,” 

Dejun resists the urge to smack him upside the head.

“Okay and I’m going to find a job related to my degree immediately after I graduate, stop _ playing _with me,”

“Woah man, do you want to talk about that?” 

Dejun has become desensitised to his inevitable, and quite frankly, imminent demise, but man, Identity Thief’s offer sounds pretty good right now.

“I— no forget it, just let me pay for my Shin Ramen, so we don’t have to continue interacting with each other until the next time you choose to steal someone else’s name, _ goodness _ the day you take ‘Hang’s nametag, I’m actually going to burst into tears—”

Yongqin proceeding to scan the noodles feels mildly offensive, as Dejun’s speech gets interrupted by the shrill ‘beep’ of the machine, but he shuts his mouth anyway, belatedly realising that _ he’s _ the one prolonging their interaction.

He pays in cash, murmurs a small thank you and is fully prepared to erase the whole experience from his mind the moment he steps out of the establishment—

“You’ll be okay Dejun,” 

Dejun hovers by the automatic doors. By the time he turns around, unsure of what to do or say, Yongqin beats him to it with his stupid Customer Service Smile, although tight at the edges, his eyes make up for it with its dazzling shine, even brighter than the LED lights permeating the store and Dejun fights the urge to smile back.

“I’m still keeping your 3.10!” Yongqin yells and Dejun then decides to stomp off, slides slapping against the asphalt, but all with a smile on his face.

**The Fourth (It’s Food Again)**

Mark, being the lovely human being he is, notices how down Dejun has been looking since finals ended, and decides to take him out for Chinese food. 

“Hey Dej’, we should go to the new Chinese place that opened up for dinner, my treat,”

Dejun looks up at the blonde whilst in the middle of filing away new stock.

“Don’t you have something on with Donghyuck tonight?” Dejun remembers Mark telling him about him and his boyfriend’s new tradition of watching a different Netflix original every other night. Remembers Mark telling him that he thinks Donghyuck actually enjoys the terrible romcoms the streaming platform churns out every other month but pretends he doesn’t so Mark doesn’t make fun of him. It was pretty cute, hence why Dejun remembers it in such vivid detail.

“Nah it’s fine, I want to catch up with you! We can order your favourite dimsums!” Dejun doesn’t dare break it to his Korean friend that dimsums are usually a breakfast-lunch kind of meal, mainly because Mark’s got that Sparkle in his eyes, the kind Dejun is a sucker for (re: Dude with the Many Names). Also, the offer is sweet and Dejun wants to give the boy a hug, but refrains himself lest Mark squirms at the skinship and their ‘bro’ relationship tears apart at the seams. 

“Aw really? That’s really nice of you Markie, are you sure you don’t want Donghyuck to tag?” Donghyuck is perfectly fine company. Dejun’s previous experience as a third wheel has always been pleasant as Donghyuck tries his best to include Dejun in discussions, keeping the PDA to a minimum, and always compliments his eyebrows. 

(“Dude, you don’t use ABH pomade? Anything at all?”

“I mean I pluck and shave ‘em but that’s really it, they’re naturally a bit bushy and unruly.”

“_Dude_, that’s amazing! I need to do your make up some day, man the things I could do with your lashes and eyebrows and snatched cheekbones...”

“I like getting done up from time to time but seriously, nobody has ever complimented me as much as you have, you’re too kind!”

“I’m still here.”

“Okay seagull-lookin-headass.”

“_Hey!_”)

“No it’s fine, it’ll be just us two, like a _bro_ -date,” Mark does his signature tongue-clucking sound, and Dejun _ has _to laugh.

“Okay Mark, a ‘bro-date’ it is,” Dejun air quotes the term and Mark only hiccups out an awkward giggle, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“But seriously, I’m excited, let me finish with this section and we can close up real quick if no one decides to wander in looking for a turntable.”

Mark properly laughs at that, recalling the time Dejun references instantly. The other day, just as Dejun and Mark were ready to jet home, the sun sinking slowly into the horizon, some guy waltzed in ten minutes before they were about to close up. A first-time turntable buyer who truly had the worst timing, and although he had an impeccable taste in music, Mark and Dejun were about to lose it right then and there when he asked to listen to one of the packed up displays. 

“Aye aye captain,”

They finish closing up in record time, and Dejun is all too excited to stuff himself that he’s running down the road and doesn’t hear Mark screaming after him “Dej’! Wrong way!” until he’s hit the very end of the pavement.

“Ha, sorry,” 

Mark can’t even muster out a response, too puffed out to reply and Dejun only grins. 

“C’mon Markles, only six days older than me and can’t even keep up?” Dejun teases and Mark punches him in the arm.

“Oi, who’s paying for dinner? I dare you to say that again,” 

“Haha my bad, _idiot_,” Dejun murmurs under his breath in Korean and Mark drags him backwards by the handle of his backpack.

“You are so annoying, you’re lucky I appreciate and care for you as a friend otherwise you would be obliterated by the power of my fists.”

Dejun looks at his friend and physically deflates.

“_Mark_, stop it! I appreciate and care for you too, it means a lot to me that you offered to hang out tonight,”

“You seemed pretty out of it for the last few weeks so I thought this would be nice,” Mark says, maintaining full eye contact and man, does Dejun want to wrap the guy in a big hug.

The one thing that Dejun loves about being friends with Mark is how transparent they are with each other. Really only bonding out of work, Dejun never imagined to become so close to the guy who constantly forgot where the H section of the vinyls were, despite the alphabetical system and logical structure of the store, and was a total, unbridled disaster at operating the computer. Once he claimed to have deleted an entire Excel sheet containing all of their suppliers’ contact details and Dejun had to frantically scour the entire database for it, only to find out that Mark had accidentally moved the file into the Recycle Bin. That had truly cemented their relationship, and Dejun couldn’t even be angry at Mark upon learning that the guy only really knew how to use MS Paint and Word. The word ‘use’ was applied generously when Dejun went on to further learn that Mark really only used Paint to ‘design’ his Soundcloud single covers and Word to type out his written lyrics. 

Yet Mark didn’t feel the need to lie to him then, fully admitting his technological ineptitude, and still doesn’t feel the need to mask himself now, so Dejun reciprocates in the same fashion. 

“_Dude_, I love you, but in like,” Dejun pauses for dramatic effect.

“A _bro _way?” Mark finishes, the corner of his lips quirking up in a knowing smile

Dejun grins.

“You got it.”

They arrive at the restaurant, and Dejun knows Mark’s order like the back of his hand, courtesy of his good memory and also the fact that Mark likes Korean-Chinese dishes as opposed to traditional Chinese food, so he rattles off to the waiter their entire order. Mark’s eyes widen before he just leans back in his chair and gives Dejun a slow nod.

“Dude, being bilingual is the best,” Dejun snorts softly at the proclamation and Mark whines in response.

“Hey I’ll have you know I have entire conversations with my grandparents over Facetime, so I’d say I’m pretty damn fluent,”

“_I know, I’m just joking with you_,” Dejun says with perfect fluency, and Mark scowls, threatening to throw his napkin at him.

“_I can’t believe you know Korean as well_,_ you’re so gifted,_” Mark compliments whilst digging into the sweet and sour pork, and Dejun shrugs. His Korean, learnt mainly when he went on exchange, is not too shabby and could totally give Canadian-Korean Mark Lee a run for his money.

“Maybe _ you _ should go on exchange to Korea, you know, recapture your Asian roots before the Western World eats you up,” Dejun says through a mouthful of rice and Mark tries not to choke on his own.

“Yeah I’ll keep that in mind,” Mark bites his lip so he doesn’t laugh and wipes his mouth on a napkin, pushing out his seat as he does.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom, don’t pay for the meal while I’m gone, aight,” Mark puts his hands on his waist and juts his hip out.

“Yeah yeah, go and do your business.” Dejun knows a typical sneak when paying for a meal is pretending to go to the bathroom but paying for the meal instead, but by the queasy look on his friend’s face, that probably hasn’t crossed his mind. 

Once Mark is gone, Dejun belches rather loudly, but amongst the sound of the other customers, it gets drowned out, thankfully.

But of course, it doesn’t get _ fully _drowned out.

“Geez, that was a little gross,”

Dejun doesn’t even bother with a proper reply, only grunting in response.

“Don’t you wanna see what name I have on today?”

Either-Sicheng-Xuxi-or-Yongqin-or-none, who made fun of his age complex, who egregiously asked him if he wanted $3.10 venmo’ed to him, who told him that it was gonna be okay that night at the grocery store, with his cute face and cute voice and cute hair and cute mouth and cute teeth—

Dejun peers up and sees the Chinese characters.

“Who are you cosplaying as today?”

“I’m the _lao ban_, can’t you tell?” _Qian_ _Kun _poses with his hands on his hips and a pensive, stern look in his eyes. 

“Wow, you’re radiating such big boss energy, Jack Ma is quivering,” 

Kun (also, not-Kun?) lets out a laugh, and Dejun takes that as a win. For what game, he doesn’t know, is there even a game to be played? It makes him happy seeing the boy smile, so that must mean he won something. 

He’s not going to delve on that thought any further.

“Would you like a discount? I can afford it you know, ‘cos I basically own Alibaba Group,” Kun says while looking through the receipt taped to the wooden table.

Dejun is about to say no, refusing to be wooed by bargains as Grandpa and Grandma were, but he remembers that Mark is still in the bathroom, probably suffering the wrath of the _ ma la tang _they ordered.

“How much can you do for me Qian,”

“On the house.” 

Dejun realises belatedly how ironic it the whole situation is, considering not-Kun’s last name is literally ‘_money_’. 

“So, 15%? Actually I’d be okay with 10% even,” Dejun is ready to pull out his wallet when Mark suddenly magicks himself into his chair and slaps his hand away.

“No stop it Dej’, I said _ I _was shouting,” Mark takes out his card and gives it to Kun, who, surprised at Mark’s sudden apparition, hesitates.

“Let me pay for at least my portion! We’ll go Dutch,” Dejun pulls out his own wallet and gives Kun his drawn in brows matched with the locked jaw combination that usually intimidates anyone that doesn’t know Dejun all too well. Like how hedgehogs curl over with all of their quills facing up, Dejun uses his strong facial features that distract from his defined eye line and long eyelashes. Not that he’s at the bottom of the food chain and needs to defend himself against predators or anything.

Let’s forget that metaphor.

“But _Dejun_,” Mark whines and Dejun forces the male to retract his hand.

“Firstly, you need to save up for ‘Hyuck’s anniversary gift next month, and secondly, I know you feel bad about accidentally falling asleep on my couch that one time but it really is not that big of a deal,”

Mark sinks into his seat and reluctantly slips his card back into his wallet.

“_Don’t bother with the discount, just give me the bill,_” Dejun murmurs in swift Mandarin and Kun only quirks up an eyebrow but drifts back to the cashier.

“Do you know him? Is that why you won’t let me pay? Dejun, you are absolutely right but dude, I literally slept on your couch, ate your food, used your bathroom and _ totally _forgot it was your birthday on the same day! That’s unforgivable,” Mark holds his head in his palms and groans. Dejun only smiles. Now his friend has finally unveiled the root of his concerns. Mark had had a bad day at uni and was visibly upset throughout their night shift, smiling only when customers were asking where the Chet Baker records were, and Dejun would be a terrible friend if he didn’t let him stay over when it started chucking it down the moment they clocked out of their shifts and Mark’s dorm was at least half an hour away by public transport.

Mark had only realised in the morning when he caught a glance at the calendar on the coffee table that it was the 8th. 

“We’re mildly acquainted, but it’s okay Mark, seriously. You can pay next time,” Dejun placates the male who’s still sulking but Not-Kun comes back with the bill and a toothy smile plastered on his face.

“Here you go,”

Dejun doesn’t glance too much further at the receipt, only pays for the subtotal but he spots a dark mark bleeding through the receipt. Flipping the receipt over, a small message written in a familiar scrawl gleams at him.

_ guess i don’t owe you any more money but can i still get your username? Or your number that’d be great too :D _

“Are you sure you’re only ‘mildly acquainted’ with this guy, Dejun,” Mark peers over, pinching him in the arm, and Dejun pinks violently.

“I swear I don’t even know his name.” Now that for a fact is true, but Mark doesn’t need to know that him and Not-Kun have met three times already and have gotten to know each other on some sort of basis, albeit an unconventional, almost hostile, but a basis nevertheless. 

“Okay Dej’, you don’t have to act all coy and shy, I’m totally cool with being your wingman,” Mark upturns his nose and gives him a nod, like he’s suggested something really lucrative to Dejun. 

“I don’t need a wingman! We aren’t like that!” 

“Strong denial is strong affirmation Dejun Xiao, c’mon man, you haven’t gotten some in like, _months_,” Mark says loudly through a large mouthful of black bean noodles and apparently, the whole restaurant decides to go silent and only the sound of the Canadian’s obnoxiously loud chewing resonates through the air.

Dejun shrinks further into his seat, prays he melds into the gold threaded fabric and shrinks himself into some otherworldly dimension where not-Kun is not behind him, his smirk so impossibly loud that Dejun can _ hear _it.

“_Okay_ for a moment I thought you and Hendery were banging but then I saw him and Yukhei eating face at the cafe y’all were at during finals and I was like _ ohhhh _ okay maybe not but seriously Dejun, go and tell him that venmo username and while you’re at it, your number, address, how you like your eggs in the morn— Oh! How convenient, he’s _ right here _!”

Dejun’s skin is blistering red with embarrassment and pure agony. Why, why, why, _ why _ is Mark Lee the way he is? Is God out to get him? For what? He swears he’s been calling his parents every second day, volunteering at the animal shelter, donating every month to a good cause, _ and _doing his bit for Mother Nature with his metal straws and reusable bags—

“I think the powers that be have done enough for us to meet three times already, maybe it’s fate telling you to give me your number?” 

Not-Kun peels away Dejun’s hands from his face gently (as if Dejun gave him _ permission _ to touch him) and grins, biting his lower lip in anticipation. Coupled with Mark’s insufferable goading from the sidelines (“_Oiiiiiii Dejun Xiao let’s get it!_”) and the whole restaurant staring intently at him on the edge of their seats, Dejun senses the feeling of eyes concentrating on his figure as he rips his hands away, grabs his bag and runs.

He rocks up at his apartment out of breath and Kunhang opens the door to a whoosh of air as Dejun throws his waist bag on the couch and muffles his screams into a display pillow.

“Dej’?”

“Kunhang, has anyone ever publicly humiliated you by asking for your number in a crowded restaurant, holding your palms in theirs as if they’re asking you to spend the rest of your life with them?”

“I can’t say so,”

Dejun screams again, and Kunhang only offers his comforting ministrations as Dejun opts to continue making strangled noises for another half hour.

**The Fifth (and Final, Thank God)**

Mark had showed up at his apartment the next morning with a whole box of green tea flavoured snacks, cake, tea, ice-cream and a profuse number of apologies spilling from his lips.

“I am _so sorry_, I should have been aware of how you were feeling and the ramifications of my actions, and when I should shut the hell up, dude Dej’ you have no idea, I am so so—”

“Mark, it’s okay, I forgive you, it wasn’t entirely your fault anyway, but thank you! This instantly makes up for everything,” Dejun steals the cardboard box out of Mark’s hands and ushers him inside.

“So it was partially my fault,” Mark mumbles, shucking off his sneakers and Dejun sighs.

“You did say with your entire, sauce-smeared mouth, that I haven’t gotten dicked down in months,” After his screaming session, Dejun had come to terms with what had happened and was actually glad that he channeled his humiliation into something harmless, with no widespread impact if you didn’t take into account the amount of time Kunhang took out of his night to provide physical and emotional reassurance to Dejun. It factors into his best friend duties so in terms of harm and impact, basically considered negligible.

“Dude, I am so—”

“It’s okay Mark, seriously.” At the sight of Mark’s pout, Dejun huffs.

“C’mon Markles, this matcha ice cream isn’t gonna eat itself,” 

After demolishing the whole one-litre tub of the sweet ice-cream, Mark confesses that he had skipped a lecture in order to buy all of this food and Dejun promptly shoos him out of the apartment not before he tries to apologise _ again_, to which Dejun responds to by pushing him out with a promise that he was truly feeling okay and he forgives the boy for his ‘untasteful behaviour’, quoted verbatim from one of Mark’s many apologies from that hour. 

“Okay Mark! I’ll see you at work tomorrow! Bye bye!”

Mark waves back half heartedly before Dejun closes the door, once confirming that his friend had indeed entered the elevator. 

Now that he has all of these snacks to demolish and no confirmation that Kunhang is going to stay at the apartment tonight after having to suffer through his antics last night and the fact that Yukhei’s roommate is on holidays, Dejun decides to visit his best friend during his lunch break.

Dressed in his green sweatshirt, khaki chinos, and sneakers, he grabs a bag to put the snacks in, opting to not carry the gigantic box to the mall. 

Man, Kunhang is gonna love the Kitkats.

“I think he’s in the bathroom right now, you might just want to wait outside?” the tall newbie, Dejun garners from his quivering hands and the nervous sweat gathering at his hairline, named Jisung tells Dejun when he asks for Hendery, and Dejun only thanks the young boy and walks back outside into the food court.

Kunhang, who goes by Hendery through some unfortunate misspelling on his papers, has been working at Vision Apparel for a year now, and Dejun is no stranger to the staff, swinging by to drop off lunch or more often, to beg him to eat lunch with him when Mark has gone to eat ramen with Donghyuck. But clearly, Jisung, who looks about fifteen and is probably working his first job with not a smidgen of previous experience listed on his resume (how one may ask? Probably through some means of the manager Taeyong, who despite having a venerable, intimidating online status as the rapper TY Track, has a soft spot for everyone and everything), has no clue, and Dejun wants to warn him almost? That he’ll be here more often than he should be and that Jisung should just note this information down for next time. 

“So I heard you wanted to see me?” Dejun almost implodes partially out of shock, and from the _voice_. 

“Hey man, don’t you think you’re taking it too far?” Dejun looks in front of him to meet gazes with a familiar pair of hazel-coloured irises, and Not-Kunhang slaps the back of his neck with a remorseful look on his face.

“Right, sorry again Dejun, I really didn’t think about what I was doing or saying that night until you—”

“Ran out? It’s alright, my idiot of a friend didn’t either,” Dejun isn’t one to hold grudges, despite his spiteful behaviour at their first interaction, and can’t find it within him to be angry at the guy. Plus the blush he’s sporting is pretty adorable, if Dejun says so himself.

“Sorry, again, I think I got caught up in the moment and in my uh, persona?” They both remember the weird character of head chef slash business owner Qian Kun the boy was caught up in, and cringe in a synchronised manner.

“This is the fifth time we’ve met, and I can’t even pinpoint why you—” Have so many names? Jobs? Manage to show up everywhere I go? Dejun’s mouth forms various shapes as he deliberates over which question to ask first, but Not-Kunhang beats him to it.

“Okay, I owe you a proper explanation, and I can’t promise that you won’t think I’m absolutely insane, or tragically desperate.”

Dejun sets down his can of green tea and leans in just a little further.

“First, I was covering a shift for a friend, um Sicheng,” Not-Kunhang makes odd hand gestures in the air beside him, as if Sicheng was beside him and Dejun bites back a laugh at his awkwardness. “Who had fallen sick really abruptly and couldn’t find anyone to cover him, and he knew I had worked at another branch of the ramen place before, so he asked for a favour and I said yes.” 

“And the other part of the story I can fill in, when I overreacted about you calling me sir because I’m lowkey self-conscious about looking ugly, and old is a subset of ugly in my mind, which has really been moulded by the beauty standards plaguing our world—”

“It’s not really company policy to call people sir, I was just messing with you, but dude, do you wanna talk about that?” Not-Kunhang’s (or Not-Sicheng, Not-Xuxi, Not-Yongqin, Not-Kun, the names are endless now) expression morphs into one of amusement to concern in a split-second.

“So you called me sir to mess with me? The customer, of all to have insecurities about their face? Wow your luck is truly remarkable,” Dejun scoffs and the boy shakes his hands rapidly in front of his face.

“I’m really sorry if I hit a sore point, but also I’m the type of person who really likes playing on other peoples’ annoyances, so when I saw how your face twisted when I called you sir, I saw the opportunity and took it,” At least he has the knowhow to look apologetic, even when admitting he is totally out to annoy the living hell out of everyone, friend or stranger and Dejun does not know what to do with or how to react to this information. 

“Well, next up would be Xuxi?” 

“Well actually, I think you know Xuxi, maybe as _Yukhei_?” The intonations are terribly off but Dejun’s more astonished at the fact that Kunhang’s boyfriend, the library guy who he’s never met and only really heard of in gushing tones, played some part in the ordeal he’s experienced over the last few months. 

“Well, Xuxi was late to work, apparently he stayed up to work on some sort of surprise for his boyfriend for their six month anniversary,”

Dejun folds his hands in front of him and remembers all too clearly his first sexile-ification. 

“Yeah, but I was right by the entrance of his dorm by some coincidence and we’d only known each other through mutual friends, but he practically begged me to fill in for him for his morning shift, which was really only monitoring and helping out at the counter, told me to find a polo shirt and khakis, and he’d treat me out for lunch, which he did the day after,” Definitely-Not-Xuxi grins, and Dejun suddenly remembers Kunhang telling him about seeing his boyfriend eating lunch with another boy that was not him and being mildly offended that he wasn’t invited before Yukhei called and told him about the _ crazy _ thing that occurred the day of Dejun’s Sexile-ificiation, that Dejun chose to duly ignore. 

Now things were falling into place.

“Okay, Yongqin? I seriously can’t believe my neighbours tried to set me up with you, oh my God,” 

“Okay, he actually goes by Ten, but swear on my life I did not plan that either, like it was kind of the same thing, he was feeling under the weather so his boyfriend Johnny called me up since he knew I’d already done this kind of thing before, probably through Sicheng now I think about it since he’s friends with Xuxi, and him and Johnny are friends, but _ anyway _ , Ten and I were only really acquainted through some dance expo that I was dragged to by a friend, so it was all really weird but I was free that night and everything was pretty self-explanatory and Ten promised he’d come in to close up, so I clocked in, and then the sweet old couple came in and I helped them find the coriander and the grandma kept murmuring something under her breath to her husband which was a little daunting, but then I gave them a discount because I couldn’t _ not _ have, I mean they’re literally your neighbours, you know how you feel automatically obligated to make them happy when you see them? And they were _ really _ happy after that, so twenty minutes pass and then you stopped by,” Also-Not-Yongqin recounts like he’s spitting out a fresh verse and Dejun only laughs. Every situation is becoming more and more strange but believable, and Dejun isn’t focussing too hard at this point, only thinking about how sparkly his eyes are. 

“I’m sorry I was so mean to you that day, I was pretty fed up for the whole day, plus seeing you again for what felt like the millionth time really turned me off,” the boy opposite him only waves Dejun off.

“It’s alright, I feel like I’ve done you more wrong than you having an off day can ever level out,” 

Dejun smiles at that, not disagreeing in the slightest but he commends the admission. He mentally adds more credit to Not-Yongqin’s rep.

“Now, Kun,” Not-Kun starts off, guilt written all over his small face and Dejun prepares himself for the worst. Are Cute Boy’s recompenses all to be for naught?

“Kun is like my older brother, and I’ve known him since I was a kid before I even moved out here for school, so naturally we’re real close,” 

Dejun feels the ‘but…’ coming.

“So, naturally, as a younger brother, I like to play pranks on him, and this time, I was going to hide his uniform from him but under the guise of actually trying to set him up with Johnny and Ten, who I swear have all been eyeing each other during all the times I’ve seen them together, whether it be at parties or Performing Arts mixers since they’re all involved in that sphere and obviously thirsting after each other, so I told all of the staff in advance that I’d be filling in for Kun and the night would operate as per usual, but instead, I was going to be donned up in his head chef gear and that they would have me to blame if anything terrible did happen.” Really-Definitely-Not-Kun pauses for some sort of effect and Dejun continues for him.

“So I happened to come in with my friend of all days, the one which you had chosen specifically to try and set up your friend with your other friends and also pose as him, and the rest is history?” 

“Unfortunately, yes,” 

Dejun mulls over this onslaught of information for a little bit all the while the brunette in front of him wrings his hands together, trying his best to gauge his reaction.

“So, you managed to scab my best friend’s job too? Where is he? Taking a sickie?” 

Seriously-Not-Kunhang lets out a heavy breath and smiles.

“Well, this time it might have been intentional because I sought out Xuxi, whose boyfriend I got to know as a result, and I’m pretty sure the only thing your best friend is sick of is your screaming,” 

“He told you about that?!” Dejun returns to his mortified state from last night, and he only cackles.

“Yup.” he emphasises with a lip smack, but scrunches his nose as he leans forward across the table.

“But if I recall correctly, I’m pretty sure you said you would cry when I managed to take ‘Hang’s nametag’,”

“I really might— wait, do you _ want _me to cry?” Dejun is brought back to Wednesday night at the grocery but then back to reality, where he stares the boy straight in the eye, still unsure if he’s out for some sort of visible reaction from him in his current state of vulnerability.

“No, I actually want to um, take you on a date,” 

Wait a minute. Stop. _ Rewind _.

“Pardon?!” 

“I’ve garnered from our several interactions, that you’re really quite cute and intriguing, and I would like to get to know you better,” The identity thief says with his whole chest and Dejun feels like his own chest has gone completely concave, like he’s been punched in the gut.

“I— I can’t believe you find me cute as well,” 

Now it’s _ his _turn to flush a lovely shade of firetruck red.

“Huh, glad to know it’s mutual,” is all the boy can mumble out and Dejun leans back in his chair.

“You know I’ve never gone on a date with someone whom I don’t even know the name of?” 

“Well, I’m glad I can be your first,” He flirts back with his cheeks still tinged red and Dejun doesn’t fight back a smile this time.

“I’m going to have to think about your proposition, but is there any way I can contact you to let you know of my decision?” Dejun thinks he’s being quite clever with getting the boy’s number.

“Then I’m just going to _ have _to give you my number, aren’t I?” the boy steals a green tea Kitkat from Dejun’s bag of goodies and with a permanent marker seemingly whisked out of nowhere, he scribbles down a series of numbers.

“Here you go Dejun, I’ll look forward to your response,” he hands over the chocolate whilst getting out of his seat and Dejun would be lying straight through his teeth if he said he didn’t feel electricity spark at the tip of his finger where their hands touched momentarily.

“Okay, I’ll get back to you Mr. Five Names,” Dejun gets up as well and the smile the boy gives him sends shockwaves of warmth coursing through his body.

“That works as my rapper name, think like, Two Chains but make him Chinese and an identity thief,” 

“Stupid,” Dejun mumbles under his breath, but not without a grin dancing on his lips and Mr. Five Names (Lord, Dejun is really in for it now) only winks in response.

The last thing Dejun hears before he decides to head back home is someone, who sounds a lot like a teenager with a lot of attitude is, “That was frankly, the strangest and possibly the grossest flirtation sequence I have ever witnessed in my entire life.”

**+1 The Sixth (the Series Finale)**

_ to: mr five names _

_ it’s a yes from me _

_ from: mr five names _

_ oh my god really _

_ to: mr five names _

_ now will you tell me your _

_ Real Name_

_ from: mr five names _

_ wait let me enjoy my golden _

_ buzzer moment _

_ to: mr five names _

_ it’s gonna be an ‘x’ real soon if _

_ you don’t put me out of my misery _

_ from: mr five names _

_ haha sike! what if we _

_ meet at the gong cha down from the mall _

_ and i make the grand reveal then _

_ to: mr five names _

_ you’re really pushing your luck today _

_ see u in five _

_ from: mr five names _

_ hehe ok <33333 _

_ to: mr five names _

_ <3 _

Dejun learns over milk tea that his date’s name is Yangyang Liu, a Chinese-German who is a year younger than himself and is studying mechanical engineering at a university not too far from his. 

He learns that Yangyang is just as cheeky and sly as he originally deduced, and still has the audacity to tease him about everything despite _ that _precipitating the rocky start they got off to. But, he learns that he honestly doesn’t mind in the end, and that he really likes the colour the younger takes on when Dejun decides to slip his fingers between his when they leave the store.

He learns that Yangyang loves racing and the city of Dusseldorf, is a big baby and doesn’t like eating vegetables but concedes if Dejun promises ice-cream and cuddles (again, a Baby). He learns that Yangyang likes to surprise him, whether it be at the food court or at the record store, a piece of cake or tea in his hands.

“You don’t have to do this all the time ‘yang, just text me and we can hang out,” Dejun says after a long gulp of egg pudding and Yangyang furrows his brows.

“No, I like surprising you, you’re cute when you’re eating and not complaining,”

“Thanks, you dick,” Yangyang only smiles, bringing his thumb to the edge of Dejun’s lips and swiping away at a stray bit of herbal jelly.

“You’re welcome baby,”

Dejun chokes on his pearls and Yangyang records it on his private Snapchat story.

But Dejun learns that apart from Yangyang being stupidly cute with his dazzling eyes and pearly white smile, _ and _ the fact that he impersonated five people and caused Dejun a lot of unwarranted stress, he’s a sweetheart who makes Dejun feel anything but ‘#foreveralone </3’. 

“Hey Mark, are you going out for lunch today?”

“Yeah, but I’m eating at that ramen place with Hyuck, did you want to come along?”

“Do you mind if I bring someone?”

**Author's Note:**

> written for weishen fest: first wave! thank you so much to the mods for being so organised and kind to all of us unpredictable writers- this was my first time writing for a fic fest and you guys made it so easy and enjoyable! 
> 
> #W100: Yangyang goes around and works in several places, and Xiaojun is extremely confused on why everywhere he goes, he manages to see this smiley boy behind the counter (clothes shops, fast food chains, restaurants, convenience stores, library, anywhere really)
> 
> forgive me prompter if i completely ran away with your idea, but i hope this lives up to your expectations and you enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it!
> 
> p.s hyuck does end up doing dejun's make up and yangyang is speechless for the first time in their entire relationship. mark tweets a 10 second clip of yangyang with his jaw open and sicheng, lucas, ten, kun, and kunhang all retweet it


End file.
